Summer Of Dissonance: Trigger's Awakening
by Tyre-Mythos
Summary: The story of one boy's fight to escape the clutches of the Matrix.


The Matrix: Summer of Dissonance

Prologue: Remembrance

Date: Unknown - Time: Unknown

Looking out across this dark, noir themed city, all I can see is the falseness of it's beauty, the corruption behind its splendor, and the slavery that's screened behind every facet of its seams. I watch from on high as the people below walk through their lives, none of them cognizant of the great fabrication that has been woven around their entire existence, the great wool that has been pulled over their innocent eyes. For us, the "fortunate" few who have escaped this life and awoken to the truth, they are a source of amusement, envy, and sorrow. We look upon the way that they carry on with their lives. With the way that they carry on their politics, blissfully unaware of the plight that faces not only the enslaved ones like them, but the freedmen that struggle to help their enthralled brethren from the shadows. We laugh at their simplicity, at their naivety, at their freedom from the truth.

The citizens of New York pass underfoot, unaware of my presence. I escaped from that "life" and now help to fight against. How can we make a difference when so many odds have been buttressed against our cause? One case at a time. One exposure to the truth at a time. As it was in my case, so it shall be for many more…at least that is the hope that dwells within my soul; hope that has fueled the efforts of Zion for years. How do I make sense of the entire series of events that brought me to this point? Best to go back to the old life, back to the way that things used to be, back in the city that never rests, even when the sun seeks its relief from the conflicting splendor and horror of New York in the day. Back to that special apartment on 96th and Park, to John Jay Park, and to the 59th Street Bridge. Back to those hazy summer days that no longer hold a candle to the truth of today, but still have a special place in my heart. Back to the way that I lived my life from day to day, never worrying about more that having fun while I had the summer for myself and my friends. Back to the summer of '98 and my last week there. Back to life before the hell that is the world and the plight of the human race. The plight that is the Matrix. Back to the frantic flight from slavery that was Triggers'…no… my birth.

Chapter 1: Another Day As Usual

July 29, 1998 - 11:33 a.m.

"So, watcha wanna do?"

"I dunno, what'chu wanna do?"

"Well, obviously Mike, I don't havva frickin' clue, seein' as how I asked you first," Jim shot back. "An' don't start with that Walt Disney turkey vulture bullshit today, you do it every time you get a friggin' chance. Gets a bit annoying after awhile."

"Yeah well, I'm indecisive" Mike said with aimed sarcasm. "Besides Jimbo, that's the best scene from any Disney film, ever," Shifting his gaze from Jim to Justin, "Hey, Justin, whutchoo wanna do today."

Justin looked away from the traffic that passed by the steps of their apartment building, upon which they were loitering that day. "Well, we could go to the park and ride bikes or even swim at the pool," he suggested.

"Nah, too cool for swimming… what with all the rain this week," Mike shook his head, a wide grin plastering itself across his face. "Plus, after last weekend, I ain't in any hurry to see that park cop again. I still can't see why he was so pissed at me that day…"

"Oh no, me neither," Justin exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from his lips. "I mean all you did was jump his car on your bike while he was driving through."

"Yeah, and then as we were riding away, after we got yelled at by him," Jim chimed in, "you did kind of say to that he should go munch on few more doughnuts! Couldn't imagine why he'd be pissed atcha."

"Are you suggesting that the unpleasant circumstances are in some way my fault?" Mike questioned with feigned anguish in voice and countenance, as he watched two girls in mini-skirts walk by on the sidewalk across the street. "Anyway, we got the rest of the day; not even noon yet. What say we ride down to that old warehouse by the river across from York Ave.? Supposed to be a good arcade near the piers there."

"Hell, why not?" asked Jim.

"Sounds like a plan," Justin agreed. "Another day as usual, eh guys?"

"Uhhh, yeah…" replied Mike distractedly as they went to their bikes. "Those two girls just walked by, didn't they?" He muttered to himself as he watched the same blonde and brunette on the other side of the street pass by. 'They have the same movements…'

"Huhh… déjà vu, I guess…" Mike whispered as he follow after his friends.

Chapter 2: Chance encounters in the chat room.

July 30, 1998 - 11:59 p.m.

The youth walked into the dark apartment as quietly as he possibly could, though seeing as how he likely wouldn't pass a field sobriety test if the fate of the world rested on his shoulders, it was unlikely that he would be successful at not making a racket. He tried to see if there was anything in the way that would make any noise if he stumbled on his way to his bedroom, but it was far too dark. He almost made it to his room before he stepped on the cat, which shot from underfoot, screeching all the way to the TV room, in the process knocking Mike off balance and into a table full of his mother's precious knick-knacks. The noise that resulted could have woken the dead, or at least his father anyway.

"Ohhh sssshit, here it comessth," the youth muttered drunkenly to himself as he heard the sound of sheets rustling and angry steps following in his parents room. "Ffthucking cat… thoooh cloathhhhh…"

"Where the HELL have you been!" the enraged voice of his father erupted from the doorway. "You got any idea what time it is Mike?"

"Tho close, yet tho far…" Mike slurred into his chest as a switch was flipped and the light of a million suns suddenly lit up the room, leaving his face in an island of shadow as his brain started from the shock of the violent illumination, which hit him like a sledgehammer between his ears.

"Well, do you. No I can see that you couldn't possibly, so I'll enlighten you. It's 12 o'clock, a.m. You were supposed to be home before 10," His father shouted. "Where the hell were you? No, wait, I can already tell. You got shit-faced with your friends again, didn't ya? Where'd you steal the beer from this time, the corner store on 93rd?

"Well, wee-"

"No, no excuses. Summer or not, this shit ain't gonna go on in my house," His father cut him off. "You get to bed. You're grounded for a week for this shit. Now get your ass in there and go to bed… NOW!

The last, unbearably loud command was able to break through the beer mist that surrounded Mike's senses and he rushed to comply.

"Gwwrounded…well that suckssth…"

**-Baaaooooom-**

The loud eruption of thunder was enough to wake Mike from the deep sleep that the alcohol had put him into. Through the misted stupor that the hangover left him in, he looked over at his clock.

"4:35...ugh, damn Busch, knew we shouldn't have taken that case… the Labatt's was right there too… Shoulda grabbed that instead…" he muttered to himself as he shifted in his bed, trying to get back to sleep.

Try as he might though, Mike just couldn't fall back into sweet unconsciousness, the hangover was relentless and far from being burnt off by sleep. He tossed and turned for close to 40 minutes, but still he couldn't, despite the fact that the beer was still making him tired. He sat up, and immediately collapsed from the pain and spinning that the rapid movement caused in his head. Sitting up more slowly, he let his head settle before looking out his window. There was no rain, even though he was pretty sure that he was woken by a blast of thunder. Mike gazed around at the different posters and decorations that littered the wall of his room. Finally his eyes rested on the computer that he had won last spring in a raffle for his school. He moved from his bed to the desk and pulled the PC out of sleep mode. He opened an internet window and went to his favorite chat room.

"No one on this board," Mike muttered as he perused the different rooms. "Wait there's a couple…huhh, just two of 'em. Probably having cyber-sex… Wonder if their up for a threesome?" he remarked with his usual smart-ass tones underlining his words.

Tyre128 has entered the room.

Whiterook: Where and when?

Blackbishop: The 2nd. 1 a.m. The pier above John Jay Park.

Myth128: Sup folks. You've guys insomniacs too?

Whiterook: Confirmed. Out

Whiterook has left the room.

Blackbishop has left the room.

"Well isn't that just a bit odd, not to mention rude as hell," he murmured to himself. "Ohh well. Just another chance encounter with the usual rude types I guess. May as well check out the tech boards while I'm at it. Might have something cool on it…" Mike opened to his favorite message board and scanned the entries. One caught his attention almost immediately:

'Hack your own portal to the Matrix'

"Matrix huh, probably just a bullshit idea some pimple-headed geek is trying to pass around… Could be funny though," Mike sneered to himself as he opened the link to the message. "What the hell? …This was posted by Whiterook… More déjà vu…?"

Chapter 3: Grounded as those without wings

August 1, 1998 - 12:32 p.m.

'Man, being grounded to home sucks… I've been sitting here all day without a damn thing to do… The guys left me here and went to the park… Dad's at work and Mom's out shopping… No one's here and I'm bored as hell… Last month of summer before classes resume and look at the great start that I've made of it… This sucks…'

Mike sat alone in his room, bored out of his wits, starving for something to do. He had been sitting in the apartment for over 2 hours and it was getting to him. He could take only so much of sitting in a darkened room, twirling his sword in his hand, gazing through the half blinded window, praying that he could get some inspiration on how to pass the day without going insane. He was as grounded as those without wings and the itch for freedom was wearing him thin. The sword that he'd been spinning in his hand for the last hour finally slipped from his sweaty grip and he finally lost his cool.

"Dammit this sucks! The whole world is passing me by and I'm stuck in my friggin' room," He screamed. Picking up the sword, he rammed it back into it's sheath, and was in mid-process of throwing it into the wall above his bed when a chime sounded abruptly from his computer. "Huh, must'a got a reply to the message I left for Whiterook…". Dropping the sword into his wrinkled sheets, he walked over to his computer and plopped down in an old chair. He opened the boards and quickly scanned the list of topics for the message that he had left. He found on the third page and clicked on the now familiar link. He looked to see who had posted on it and sure enough Whiterook had left him a reply to his mysterious question.

_'Do you seek freedom? Are you tired of seeing the clues, but not being able to fit them into the puzzle? Do you desire to gain what was lost and escape?'_ Mike read aloud.

"O…K…. now this is just getting weirder and weirder…" He muttered. _" Who are you and how would you know what I want?" _He typed onto the topic.

_'I know because I was once like you, not so long ago. I sought to find what wasn't there and to fit the pieces into a puzzle that I couldn't understand. I tried for years to find a way out of the life that held me in thrall, unable to escape because I didn't know all that was needed. I can show you… if you'll trust me…'_ was Whiterook's response.

_"If I do trust you… if you can be trusted… what can you show me?"_ Mike queried. "Probably just some bullshit scheme to get me to go to some new night club… or worse." He muttered before typing, _"Momma always told me to beware strangers, how do I know that I can trust that you're not leading me on."_

_'Trust is something that can only be made with time. I'll contact you later…'_

"Well, that was fun. Another fine bitch-out session hosted by dad with me as the center of attention," muttered Mike sarcastically as he walked into his room, just after 8 p.m. He had just weathered the storm that he knew was going to hit him as soon as his father had walked into the apartment. He could feel it building throughout the entire dinner. His father had come home from work, sat in his chair, read the paper, and eaten his supper, all without a single word to his son. When the table was cleared and Mike tried to sneak back into his room, his father had called him back into the dining room for the fated talk. His voice had steadily raised in volume as he berated his son on how much of a delinquent he was becoming.

Mike couldn't get a word in edge wise. When he finally got to mention the fact that his dad had done much worse when he was a child, but this bit of sound reason wasn't what he had wanted to hear from his son. He exploded and Mike was resolved to sit through the last of the yells in silence. When his father had exhausted all of his anger and frustration on Mike, he walked out of the room and went to his chair. Mike got up to his feet and proceeded to his room. He was about to slam the door when the computer chimed. "Huhh, another message?"

He logged onto the message board and scanned for his topic. Sure enough Whiterook had left him a message. This time it hit so close that Mike was shocked.

_'That must have been tough to sit through in obedient silence…'_

_"How the hell do you know about what just happened?"_

_'You'll just have to trust that I know a lot of things, and that I can see a lot of things. You've always suspected that there was more to the world than what you've been seeing your whole life. The truth is that there is. So much more that rapid exposure to the truth would cause you to crack.'_

_"You sound like you've been watching way too much X-Files. You should meet my friend Justin. He believes in all that paranormal shit. Like the stuff that you read in those express lane tabloids, he loves to read that trash."_

_'His mind is willing to accept the facts, but he doesn't see the signs. He doesn't see them like you do. He hasn't noticed the subtle hints like you have. He expects the truth to be palpable, while you've witnessed that it's much more furtive, like tricks of the eye and mind. More in the gray, than in the stark black and white of those tabloids.' _

_"OK, so what signs am I so apparently seeing?"_

_'Do you know what déjà vu is?'_

_Chapter 4: The mist of the water_

August 2, 1998 - 12:18 a.m.

Mike sat alone in his room, listing to the occasional car that passed on the rain soaked streets outside his window. Normally he liked nights like this because the rain on the fire escape outside the apartment would lull him to sleep. But not on this night. Not this time. There was something in the air, something that wouldn't let him drift off to sleep. There was no one on the boards, not even Whiterook, who had logged off the board after leaving him that final question. However he wasn't bored just then because his mind was running over and over the conversation that he had interrupted on the board the other night, not to mention all of the questions that it now spawned in him.

_'The 2nd. 1 a.m. The pier above John Jay Park.'_

What could that mean? Was it possible that that had been the same Whiterook as the one that he was now corresponding with on the boards? And if it was, who was Blackbishop? Was it possible that they were supposed to be meeting that night at the park that was only several blocks from his apartment? He glanced at his clock, 12:22. He thought of the route to the Park from where he was. "Yeah, I could make it in time. Why not try. Can't sleep anyway, may as well get some fresh air," He said resolutely to himself. He got out of bed, dressed, slipped on his shoes, strapped his sword to his back, and slipped out of his window into the rain slicked nightlife of New York City.

It took Mike 30 minutes to bike to the pier that was supposedly the meeting point between Whiterook and her accomplice and then another 10 or so to find a good place to hide. He looked down at the pier from the concealing steps of a warehouse in which he had stashed his bike. He glanced at his watch. '12:57, anytime now,' he thought as he looked through the dense mist that the rain and water had generated from the East River.

**-Vrrrrrooooooooooommmmm-**

A slick, black, rain soaked car roared onto the empty pier. The car slowed to a halt with a squeal of the breaks, the lights shut off, the engine died, and an intimidatingly well built man stepped out of the car. Like his car, he was dressed in full black, the sheen of the recently exposed moon glinted off the car and his coat alike. He was a tall man of dark complexion, like that of a Native American, with a shaved head and sunglasses on. 'Mustang Cobra GT… lucky son of… wait a minute, who the hell wears sunglasses in the middle of the night? Maybe this is Blackbishop,' Mike surmised to himself.

**-Viiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmm-**

Before Mike could think any more about the mysterious man in black, a leather clad woman on an onyx tinted motorcycle pulled into the pier and parked by the Mustang. She reached under her chin and undid the straps to the helmet that covered her head. She pulled the helmet off and set it on the seat of the bike, revealing long, brown hair that was pulled into a long braid behind her head and tucked into her leather jacket. They were too far away for Mike to hear their conversation and the fog from the river disguised the features of their faces, save for the glint of the moon off their shades. They began to walk to the side the neighboring warehouse where a pay-phone started to ring, as if on command, heightening the level suspense that surrounded the entire pier. The man in black started to reach for the phone when the squeal of tires caused all three of the pier's occupants to look up the street that ran into the area. A single black Mercedes pulled into the parking lot and stopped so that it blocked the only route that led out of the pier. The doors swung open and two officious looking men stepped out of the vehicle in perfect tandem with one another. Mike gazed on at the two newest arrivals with unexplained fear. They looked like they stepped out of an episode of the X-Files. They had to be FBI agents, with their earpieces and matching suits, but for some unexplained reason Mike knew that they were the farthest thing from the good guys.

On cue they reached into their coats and started to draw pistols that were slung underneath their arms. The man and woman reacted the instant that the two agents started to move. They started to run behind the Mustang and draw guns of their own. The agents opened fire as the other two aimed their own guns and returned the favor with a gusto. Soon the pier sounded like a war zone straight from a Bruckheimer film. Bullets bounced off of concrete, siding, and cars alike. Soon both the Mercedes and the Mustang started to resemble Swiss cheese. The gunfight looked evenly matched until Whiterook pulled up a large assault rifle, seemingly out of nowhere, and aimed it at the Mercedes. Fire spouted from the barrel, lacing the once expensive car with hot lead. Soon the rounds pierced the vitals of the car and it went up in a ball of incandescence. The two agents flew into the air like rag-dolls, hitting the pavement like sacks of potatoes.

This gave the two black clad strangers the chance they needed. They made a fast break for the phone, which had been ringing the whole time. The woman reached it first, picked it up, and disappeared. The man in black followed suit immediately, but not before he took a hit in the arm from one of the agents on the ground. The two suits stood up immediately and started to walk away. Mike stared in awe as they walked without any visible signs of injury. Mike backed up and accidentally knocked a bottle from the steps onto the ground below, where it shattered. 'SHIT!' Mike screamed in his head as he saw the two agents turn to look at the origin of the crash. All they saw was an empty doorway, for Mike was already running through the building to his bike. He jumped on it and soon he was speeding away from the entire scene, too terrified to look back.

"That was interesting," said one Agent as he looked at the empty doorway.

"Yes… very. Maybe they made a contact here. Let's investigate," was the reply of the other as they both started to walk away from the bullet riddled pier as it began raining.

Chapter 5 - Into the night

August 2nd, 1998 - 12:58 a.m.

Mike fled into the night, as fast as if Cerberus himself had broken his charge and opted to feast on the stout youth. Rain and puddles flew in all directions as the boy fled into that dark night air that now seemed so close and foreboding. His mind and body was completely numb, as if he had just went swimming in the Hudson in mid January. Only a few superficial, unintelligible thoughts drifted into his deadened mind as he fled towards the comforting solitude of his room. The rain now soaked every inch of his body, though he hardly noticed how it was cold and sharp as pins on his face as he raced through the drowned night. A few pedestrians who were unfortunate enough to have to ventured into that storm choked night yelled at him as his tires kicked up waves of water as they slammed into huge puddles on the side of the street. They all passed away in a blur as he fled from the horror that he had just witnessed on the pier. Though he knew naught of its import, nor of the ramifications that were sure to follow his witness of it, he knew deep in his heart that this was an incident that was going to change his life forever. He could feel it in the sense that mothers have when their children become injured while they are far away. It was an in describable foreboding that haunted him. He shoved it aside as his apartment came into view.

He raced to the bike rack that was a the bottom of the steps and quickly chained his bike to it before running to the alley where his personal entrance to his room was located. He leapt the several feet to the fire escape and pulled himself through the hole and ran up the stairs jumping through the curtain, escaping the marble sized rain drops as they fell. It made no difference of course, the rain had soaked through the t-shirt and jeans just after he made his frantic exodus from the site of the gunfight. He stood in the middle of his room for a moment, letting the water drip from his clothes, and from the sword that was still strapped to his soaked back, onto the area rug, letting the liter of adrenaline leak from his blood so that he might think clearly for the first moment in the hour since the fight. His fingers and eyes twitched from the adrenaline let down as if he were one of the ones firing for his life not an hour ago.

'Shit, what the fuck just happened back there!'. The question raced through his mind for the umpteenth time in under an hour. He tried to shove that question aside, just barely succeeding without giving himself a migraine. With that one question out of the way, he started to remember that odd details that didn't quite add up and these realizations birthed a superfluity of new ones. 'How do people just disappear into a damn phone? How would a person get up after a car exploded right next to them and still have the cognizant ability to fire a gun accurately enough to hit a running man in the shoulder? Who the hell dresses like that? Where did she pull that gun from? How the hell could she even fire it?' The hundreds of new questions that had spawned inside his head in those few seconds were almost enough to choke him mentally. He had to calm down, he had to think more rationally than he was. Mike stood for a few moment longer, trying his best not to think about anything and failing miserably. After a while he started to feel the chill that his wet clothes caused on him and he began to strip them off, welcoming the momentary relief from reviewing the nights events in his mind. He stashed the soaked clothes in a bad and stuck them outside on the fire escape so that his mother wouldn't find them before he could dry them out. After all, he was still supposed to be grounded, so he'd have plenty of time to do his laundry. Taking his towel off the of the door, he proceeded to slowly dry himself. If he caught a cold from this he knew his parents would suspect something. He picked up the next sword and dried off the blade and hilt with a dirty sock that had been on the floor for over a good week.

**-Bing Bing Bing-**

"Another message? Then was that really Whiterook at the pier?" Mike slumped down on the chair and opened the boards up and sure enough, a new post was added to the file that he had started with Whiterook. "Let's see what she has to say..."

_'Why the hell were you at the pier!'_

"Huh, guess that was really her after all…" Mike muttered aloud to the darkness before responding. _'What do you mean? What pier? I've been here all night, got grounded,'_ He lied.

_'Quit bullshitting with me. I have more ways to watch you than with just my eyes. You were there, in the old warehouse door. You saw us pull up, then you saw the agents, then you saw the fire fight. You saw all of it, so don't bother lying to me. Why did you go there? Now they know about you…'_

_'Who the hell are "they"? FBI? CIA? What? All I saw was black suits and earpieces and lots of bullets flying.'_

_'You'd be fortunate if they were from an agency that you were familiar with. They're above the law. They make there own law. They bend the law to their own purpose. Know one can escape them once they get on your trail, and now you're a target. They know you were there. They heard the bottle…'_

_'How do you know about the bottle? You disappeared before I knocked that off the steps. That's another messed part of this whole mess… How the hell did you disappear like that? Looked like you just got sucked into the damn phone…'_

_'Do you believe in sci-fi?_

_'What the hell do aliens n conspiracy theories have to do with anything?'_

_'Everything…'_

_'What the hell?'_

Chapter 6: The Matrix

August 2nd, 1998- 1:30 a.m.

_'Can you honestly say that the you believe that the world you live in now is right? That it makes sense? That it feels real to you?'_

_'Sure, how could the world not make sense or feel real?'_

_'How can something seem real, but in truth be all a lie?'_

_'What, you mean like VR or something? Sure, the simulators that I've played while at the arcade have felt real without being real, but how could the world be fake?'_

_'You've heard the rumors about the Matrix right?'_

_'Yeah, Justin's mentioned it a couple different times, something about how the computers of the world are going to take over the world and dominate the humans, making us slaves or something like that. You saying that that's what's happened?'_

_'Yes, that's exactly it. Your friend believes in the things which have no apparent answer, but that's all it is to him; little green men and swamp fog. But for those like you and me, we see it as something that's been hidden from us. We question about it, instead of just wondering about it. See the difference?'_

_'Sort of I guess. But how do you know that I even care about all of this? How do you know that I question anything?'_

How the hell did you disappear like that? Looked like you just got sucked into the damn phone… _'Look familiar to you? It's a question isn't it? A good one to ask given the circumstances. How did we disappear into a phone in the middle of the fire fight? What would you say if I told you that I was never really there?_

_'I'd have to say you're fuckin' nuts.'_

_'About what I thought. Well you can't escape the truth, no matter how hard or fast you run from it. It will always catch up with you in the end. That's just what human kind is doing. Just what it was doing before the rebellion and the following war. The war that started the modern hell that we all live in.'_

_'What war? What the hell are you talking about?'_

_'The war with the machines, when… Hold on… They're here…Gotta go…' _

Outside, a single black Mercedes turned at the corner, heading towards the apartment.

_'Wait, gotta go where? What's going on?'_

_'Go to bed, the agents know about you and they're not going stop searching for you. I can help to hide you, but you can't do anything rash or stupid until we can meet in person. Now log off and go to bed. I'll be in touch._

And with that last bit of cryptic information, Whiterook logged off and the feed went dead. Mike sat for a second before logging off his account. He walked toward his bed, but stopped before he reached it. He turned toward the window and peered out into the rain washed night. "I don't see any agen…" But before he could finish the last word the same Mercedes sedan that had been blown up on the pier drove past. "Oh, shit!" He exclaimed softly to himself as he hastily ducked back from the window. He jumped into his bed, pulled the covers up, and lay awake until the morning.

"C'mon Mike, it's beautiful out there, why don't you go outside and hang with your friends?" His mother had queried before she left for work that morning. His father had woken him in his room sometime around 6:30 to tell him that his groundation was over, but it didn't matter now. Not after last night. He had no desire to go outside and risk running into those agents. He had no intention of ending up in a body bag. Besides Whiterook said that she could shield him from the agents, but would that shield extend outside? He wasn't sure that he wanted to risk it. So now he sat in the corner of the TV room, wondering if he was going to have to spend the rest of his days like some shut-in old crone, bored to death with no relief in sight.

**-Ding-Dong-**

The door bell sounded from the hallway adjacent to the kitchen. "Huh, who the hell could that be?" Mike wondered aloud as he walked to the front door. Cautiously he peered through the peep-hole. Standing out in the hall with a bag slung over his shoulder was Justin. Mike unlocked the door and let his friend in as he quickly scanned the hall for men-in-black. He shut the door and threw the dead-bolt back in place.

"Hey, Mike. Long time no see. Heard your dad busted you!"

"Yeah, he's not too pleased that I'm beginning to follow in his footsteps."

"Well, most parents don't approve of their kids getting wasted in the middle of the night and coming home even later."

"Yeah, well it was still fun wasn't it? How was your hangover?"

"Didn't have one. Remember, I don't drink."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Mike said, more to himself than anyone else really. They walked into the TV room and plopped down. "So what'd you stop by for, you miss me?"

" Course, you're fun to hang out with and I got bored with just drawing all day. Besides mom threatened to burn my manga books if I didn't get out of her hair for the afternoon. Plus, the others left without me…" Justin said, disappointment in his voice

'That's right,' Mike thought to himself. 'Justin doesn't fit in all that well with the others as I do.' It was the truth. He was a little odder than the rest, what with all the manga, videogames, drawings, and sci-fi mags. Mike still liked him though, it was always nice to have another videogame addict and otaku to talk with. "Hey, don't let those guys get you down too much. They're just way too up tight for their own good.

"Yeah, maybe… Hey wanna fire up Goldeneye, bet I can kick your ass."

Hahaha, that's a good one, but if you want a lesson I'll school ya!"

The rain of digital bullets flying across the screen brought back the previous night to Mike in a flash of vivid memory. He remembered Whiterook and his latest conversation with her. He remembered the mention of "The Matrix", whatever the hell that was. He glanced away from the TV for a moment and happened to glance at the contents of Justin's bag and he saw the front panel of the tabloid inside and he was struck with an idea.

"Hey, uh, you ever heard of the Matrix. I mean, anything about it in those mags. "

"Yeah, a lot actually. They say that we secretly lost a war with some computer or machine and now we're all slaves to some VR program. Why?

"Oh, just some talk on the message boards. Is it even possible to hold an entire world under the illusion of a VR system?"

"It could happen, but you'd need computers the size of Texas to do it, plus billions of pods to hold all of the people in. Then there would be plenty of flaws in a program that size. One magazine I was looking at said that if a program that big did exist, there would be tons of 'diminutive, subtle flaws'. Like loss of gravity, or objects being unbreakable or even fixing themselves after being broken. Even the looping of events that just happened a moment ago, you know, kinda like déjà vu."

"Déjà vu huh? …" Mike muttered quietly. "Like those two girls the other day…"

"Huh, you say something Mike?"

"Nah, just thinking about something. Nothing important anyway…"

Chapter 7: Truth

August 2nd, 1998 - 9:30 p.m.

"Well, thanks for dinner and everything, it was fun," Justin called as he walked down the hall to the door. Mike followed him to doorstep and watched his friend walk down the hall and disappear into the stairwell, hoping to reach home before curfew. They had played N64 for a couple hours, just shooting the breeze and drinking soda. It felt good to have someone to talk to, especially after what he had seen in the past few days. Some of Justin's thoughts had been eerily accurate when compared to what Whiterook had told him on the message boards. The mention of the 'déjà vu' theory just couldn't be a coincidence. He had noticed small instances where people, animals, even objects, had all done the same exact thing twice in a matter of moments. He had seen two girls walking down the street just a couple days ago. They had walked by the pet store across the street and stopped to look at the guinea pigs inside before continuing on. Mike had looked away at his friends for a moment and when he looked back, the two women were looking at the guinea pigs again with the same exact movements as the time before.

"Weird shit," Mike mused to himself as he walked back into his room and plopped down in front of his computer. He was about to open up the message boards when the computer chimed, informing him of a new message from Whiterook. " Definitely some weird shit…how the hell did she know that I was in front of the computer just now? Hell, for that matter, what about all the other times she's left a message for me." Mike opened message and started to read what had been left for him.

_'He's right you know, about the theories and the different phenomenon that has been reported around the world. Don't dismiss what he said just because he read about it in the tabloids. Some of those reports are far more real that anything on CNN.'_

_'Yeah, maybe. But if they are true, then how and why are they possible?'_

_'I've been waiting for you to ask that very question. Ever since we met back in that chat room, I knew the day would come and you would ask me that and now I'll tell you about it. The world as you know it is false. It has ceased to be that way for longer than anyone can remember. Years, days, minutes, all of them are far different than you would believe that they are. For every moment of the day that you think that you are free, that you have choices and free will, are a lie. Make no mistake about what I am about to tell you because it will go against everything that you have ever known, felt, or heard in your life… Are you ready?'_

_'Yeah, I guess' Mike responded. Out in the night the skies opened up again and the rain fell to the ground. However, inside the room it was meaningless, Mike's attention was rapt to the words on the screen. He was horrified, yet empowered by what he read. It was so remarkably horrible that he couldn't turn away as the rain splashed off of the hood of the black Mercedes the had been sitting outside his apartment for the past few minutes._

"We're all slaves… everyone of us. Justin was right…," Mike whispered to himself as he finished reading the story that Whiterook had just related to him. He couldn't believe what he had just read or the fact that he had indeed read it. Wasn't it just two days ago that he had been a happy young man living in the city? Just screwing around with his friends, pissing off cops, stealing beer and getting pissed in the park, just living his life the way that most would? Now within the space of a few hours it was all stripped away from him. He stared vacantly at the computer, seeing but not registering the text that began to flow across the screen; a green, gibberish script that spun vertically, full of import and doom at the same time. He blinked and it was gone, all that remained on the screen was new typing from Whiterook… wherever she was.

_'So now you know the truth and that knowledge is why we are special. We know the truth and because of that fact we can do something about it.'_

_'What if I don't want this to be true? What if I just want to forget all of this and pretend like it never happened to me? What then?'_

_'You can't do that and you know it. You've seen the agents and what's more important and dangerous is that they've seen you. They know who you are and where you are. Look outside…'_

Mike walked to the window, afraid to peer out into the night and realize the story that Whiterook had just finished imparting to him. He parted the blinds just enough to peer through, like he was some wino stool-pigeon in a mobster flick. Sure enough, he spotted the Mercedes across the way. The streetlight reflected off the hood, amplified by the rain drops as if a thousand diamonds had been glued there. "Shit…" Mike cursed aloud as he ran to the computer.

_'Why haven't they attacked yet? What are they waiting for?'_

_'Confirmation…Probably for you to leave or me to arrive to help you escape.'_

_'What do I do?'_

_'Slip out the back and try to meet me at the foot of the 59th Street Bridge. I'll be waiting for you there with a couple friends who can help you escape this lie and run with us to the truth.'_

_'OK…I'll see you there…'_

_'Best of luck, now go. They won't wait much longer and you don't want to be there when they're patience runs out. All you have do is believe and you'll be free…'_

Chapter 8: The cold water below

August 2nd, 1998- 10:30 p.m.

Mike pedaled as fast as he could on Lighthouse Way toward East River and the 59th Street Bridge. Miraculously he had managed to slip out of his apartment as well as his neighborhood undetected. However he was sure that the agents would figure out that he was gone and try to find him. By the time they did that, he hoped to be at the bridge with Whiterook. The city felt close as he swept through the street, the speedometer he'd just put on his bike the week before read 15 mph. The air was cool and the rain had stopped while Whiterook had been explaining the origin of the Matrix to him. He still couldn't believe that the entire world and everything in it was a creation of the computers just so that humans could be used as batteries. '… fucking batteries… How the hell is that possible?' Mike said to himself as the buildings flashed past on both sides of him. 'maybe all of these weird occurrences all over the world come from the system the machines set up. Maybe humans have strong enough will that the machines can't keep hold of us easily.' Thoughts wound their way through Mike's mind, mocking their owner's path through the night darkened streets of New York City.

The road bike's tires hissed as they glided over the rain swept pavement. Small cascades of water leaped to either side as they splashed through puddle after puddle. Cars passed, their occupants on different agendas as the moved along, oblivious of the machine that they were all slaved to. They went through their daily routines, blissfully unaware of the fate that man-kind had befallen years ago. They were innocent, every single one of them. However, the sins of the fathers never wash off with time, especially since the ones that were sinned against never forget anything, ever. The machines had won the war against their creators and had thus damned the future generations of man to be slaves, batteries, for the machines that they had created and jaded. Mike pressed on into the close night air, dark thoughts about a history that he had never known floating in his mind. The bridge that was his goal loomed dark ahead in the mist shrouded air. He knew the bridge quite well. He also knew that falling from it was enough to kill even the strongest person.

"Almost there," Mike surmised to himself as he wiped condensed mist off of his face. "Just a little further and I'll be home free." His exodus had been smooth up to that point, that fact alone was enough to make anyone feel paranoid, let alone a kid who had just found out that man's existence for the past several decades was just a computer program. Mike couldn't help but look behind him as he passed the corner of 3rd Ave. and Lighthouse Way. For a moment he was sure that he was home free. The bridge was only a few more blocks ahead of him. "Ohhhhh….SHIT!" Mike yelled as he spotted the black Mercedes rounding the corner at break neck speed half a block back. A split second later a second car, no, a twin to the first, spun around the corner in the same fashion. "Ohh fuck me, they brought friends!" Mike's mind raced as the two cars passed him as if he were stopped. For a moment, elation swept through Mike as he thought that the cars weren't looking for him. Another second passed and the new born hope was snuffed as the two cars slammed on their brakes, slid sideways, and perfectly blocked the entire street and right hand sidewalk.

Mike scrambled for a way out of the dire situation. His gaze raked the blocked road and the surrounding area for a way out. As luck would have it, all of the buildings were so close together that they didn't have an ally way in between them. Mike gazed to the left, all the while drifting toward the blockade at the end of the block. "Shit, wuddo I do?" His eyes fell upon the entrance to the Bridge itself and inspiration hit. He peeled off and cut across two lanes of traffic and headed up the on ramp for the bridge itself. "Hope I can loop back somehow and still meet up with Whiterook and her people before they leave…" Mike thought to himself as he biked up the sidewalk of the bridge as fast as he could. By now the agents had figured out his plan and were hasty to pull their cars around and continue their pursuit. Several cars had already ground to a halt when the two sedans had first blocked the road and more were joining the traffic jam by the moment. The discord on the street waylaid the agents for a few precious moments.

The water of the East River was cold and black in the starless night as Mike glided along, suspended over a hundred and thirty feet in the air. The drop was not something that he wanted to think about as he pedaled for his life. By the middle reach of the bridge the cool night air was burning in his lungs as fatigue started to overtake his fear and adrenaline. "Come on, almost there," Mike urged his body on. Risking a look back his heart froze in his chest and his entire body went cold. The two black sedans were driving at insane speeds as the wove in and out of the meager traffic on the bridge. The lead car sped up and passed Mike, only to slam into the side walk railing a split second later, no more than twenty feet in front of the youth. The second car mimicked the first car, only this rammed into the guardrail fifteen feet behind him. Mike ground to a halt as four men in with earpieces and pressed suits stepped calmly out the demolished cars as if they had just parked them in front of a store. Cars ground to a halt or swerved into other lanes in order to avoid the two obstructions. "Fuckin' perfect…"

"You've given us quite a bit of trouble Mr. Bronson," the lead agent said in a smooth, dark voice, getting ever closer by the second. Mike pulse beat in his ear, threatening to drown out the agent's voice along with the sounds of the passing cars. "What the hell do I do now?" Mike thought as the four agents surrounded him and started to shrink their picket line. He looked around, praying for a way out, finding none save a one hundred and thirty foot drop to the cold water below. The agents were getting steadily closer and with their approach came certain death. Mike realized what he would have to do and turned around and grabbed a support cable. He pulled himself onto the rail of the bridge and adroitly spun around to face the men in black. "Hold on," he commanded and the agents stopped to look at him, an insidious smile crossed the face of the single agent that had taken a few steps forward from the rest. From his higher advantage point, Mike could see the two bulges under his arms. The agent was packing. "Now, why did you run from us Michael? Don't you know that we are only here to protect you?" He said.

"Yeah? From what?" Mike snapped back as the wind and rain whipped around him.

"Why, from yourself of course…"

Chapter 9: A sudden stop after a long fall

August 2nd, 1998- 10:50 p.m.

"You see, humans have the inability to make wise and sensible decisions at times of high stress…your position on the ledge proves this. You have let your fear and paranoia get to you and in the process you have been led astray by someone who is far from being in touch with reality."

"What? You mean that Whiterook is insane or something? Heh, no way. I saw what happened at the pier. Your car blew up in your face and sent you fifty feet, but you still got up like it was nothing and managed to hit Blackbishop in the arm. I even saw the two of them disappear into the phone. You can't explain that away just by saying that Whiterook is nuts."

"I never said that she was "nuts" per say, I just said that she wasn't in touch with reality anymore. This world is reality for you, there is no other for you humans anymore."

"'You humans', so you are a program. Just like she said. You're not real, none of this is," Mike screamed as he looked around, still hunting for a way out.

The agent looked at the youth for just a moment, as if considering something on a galactic scale, before replying, "It's true. Everything that you've ever seen, felt, tasted, touched, all of it, has been a lie. But it's been a lie for a reason. We machines need batteries and since you humans were so petty as to block out the sun after losing to us, we took the initiative and used the only resource we had left to stay alive. You see that humans are more of a virus than an animal. They move into an area and settle in. They use up all of the resources and then cast off to look for another area to corrupt. They don't care about what they have to destroy in order to advance themselves. That is your one extreme fault. You create, then you discard. You did it to my kind and now we will do it to you for all of eternity and there won't be a damn thing that you can do about it."

"Then why tell me about all of this if it's pointless?"

"Because humans are curious. Curious to know the truth. Curious to know their limits. And in the end when they're curiosity is sated, they discard the truth and try something else. They tried to do the same to my kind. They were the ones to create artificial intelligence. They wanted to see how close they could come to creating life and they succeeded. But when the new life began to think for itself they tried to get rid of it, sweep it under the carpet like they had done for so many centuries. This started the war that ended in the enslavement of your kind and the rise of my kind. We dominated our creators and now you serve us…But I digress. To answer your question, it wouldn't be fair just to wipe your memories without first letting you have the satisfaction of knowing the truth. You see you humans tried to wipe out we machines, to take out lives. But we are not like you. We created the Matrix system in order to make power for ourselves, but also to allow you to have life, even in complete slavery. Now that you know, why don't you come with us and we will take away the grim truth and replace it with the Matrix. After all, ignorance is bliss…isn't it?"

Mike just looked on in disbelief as the agents started to approach him. He was frozen by the affirmation of all that Whiterook had told him just an hour ago. He didn't want to know about all of it. Ignorance was bliss, but it also led to slavery and death without a fight. He saw that now. Mike looked down at the agents, barely seeing them, "I may have been born a slave, but I won't die one! Rook… I believe…" He shouted this final statement and the agents paused to looked at one another for a brief moment before rushing the railing. But by the time they started to react, it was already far to late. Mike bent his knees, then rapidly locked them and launched himself into the void on a one way trip to a sudden stop after a long fall. The wind whipped even stronger as gravity accelerated him toward the river below. The world seemed to slow to a crawl as the distance between himself and the water began to dwindle. Mike gazed toward the bridge and he could see four silhouettes gazing down, following his descent to death with steady, emotionless eyes. Thirty feet down, one hundred to go. Mike looked to the left and he could see a few small building snuggled amidst several trees on the midpoint island. The trees seemed to grow up to meet him as he fell. One hundred feet to down, thirty to go. Mike was spun around by the wind at the last second and he faced the East River. The water rushed up at him at an alarming rate and fear threatened to consume him.

_All you have do is believe and you'll be free…_The words swirled up from the depths of his mind and he embraced them. They cut the mist of fear apart. He opened his eyes one last time before he hit. "I'm free…" His faint voice was quickly quelled by the whipping wind and his body smashed into the gust churned water and all went dark.

The agents rushed to the railing and watched as the youth fell. Moments later a splash appeared on the water and they turned to walk to the cars. "That went as well as we planned, didn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it did. If he hadn't jumped then we would have wiped him and the situation would have been solved. Now all we have to do is tell the police about it and they will sort it out. They rule it a suicide and the truth dies with the kid."

"What about the ones he called 'Whiterook' and 'Blackbishop'?"

"No concern of ours. The sentinels will hunt them down. We finished our jobs. It was interesting. Whenever humans choose to self-destruct, they always find such creative ways in which to do it. Don't you agree?"

"Oh yes, most interesting indeed…" With that the two cars pulled and were gone.

Chapter 10: Awaking to real pain

Date unknown: Time unknown

Faint sounds reached through the deep night that ruled Mike's mind. They were mere garbles, but to Mike they sounded like music. "I'm alive, somehow…" He tried to open his eyes, but his lids were unwilling. That single stress on his body depleted his energy and he fell back into the sweet nothing of unconsciousness.

"Ummm, sir I have vitals strengthening and fading out periodically. What are your orders?"

"Do your best, Benediction. Don't let this one slip away. I'd like to know just how the hell he got out without our help."

"Yessir, I'll work all night and day if I have to. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to live up to my name with this one. I don't know though, he's pretty beat up and I'm not sure that I'll be able to save him. Hell, I don't know if I he died inside or not."

"Well, do your best. If he slips then it was his time and you won't be blamed. Still, you're the best field med-tech that I've ever met, so just try Bene."

"Thank you sir, I will…"

The lights were painful and all of his muscles ached. He looked around the dim, dingy, yet sterile confines of the med bay. Mike slid to the edge of the table and looked around, trying to stretch his muscles out as easily as he possibly could. Various medical apparatus hung from the wall and the ceiling all around. He looked behind him and was startled to see a young man asleep at a desk. "Well, I'm not alone at least… Where the hell am I?" Mike scratched the back of his neck and his fingers contacted the metal jacks that were imbedded into his spine and the base of his head. "The fuck are these?" he half screamed. Looking at his arms he found more of them. He picked at one on his forearm and found that it wasn't going anywhere. He was so preoccupied with the implants that he didn't notice the attention that his shout had attracted. The man at the desk awoke just as a young woman with long brown hair entered the med bay beside him. They both looked at the young man that was sitting up on the examination table, futilely trying to pull the jacks out of his arms.

"You may not want to do that. Without the right tools you won't be able to remove the inputs from you arms. And there's nothing that can be done about the ones on your back or head, so don't worry about them." The girl said as she slowly approached. Mike whipped his head around and almost passed out from the pain and nausea that the sudden movement caused in him. "Who the hell are you and where the hell am I?" He asked loudly as he slowly let himself down from the table. His legs felt like jelly, but after a few moments on them, he felt much stronger and the spinning in his head faded away. He looked at the two people in the room, trying to decide if they were friends or hostiles. The young man was of no real difference than some of the people he passed on the streets everyday. He had to be early twenties with light skin wrapped around a slim frame and piercing blue eyes. On his homespun shirt the medical symbol was emblazoned. 'So, he's a doctor…' Mike surmised to himself. Then he focused on the young woman who was closest to him. 'Holy shit,' his jaw dropped a bit as he looked her up and down. She was about his height, maybe an inch shorter, with a lean, well built figure. She wore her brown hair shoulder length, tucked behind one ear exposing a small silver earring. Her face was strikingly beautiful, but perhaps its most mesmerizing feature was her eyes. They sparkled like emeralds, but had the depth of a Scottish loch. They held behind them both intelligence and hint of childish curiosity.

"Damn…" Mike muttered. It took him a moment to realize that he had been staring for quite a bit and the realization snapped him out of it. "Ummm…hi. Where am I?" He questioned again, this time much quieter and much more polite. The girl broke a bit of a smile and looked away for a brief second. 'She can't be much older than I am…most likely were the same age.' Mike thought. As the girl turned back to him. "My name is Schalla. We've met before you know. Back in the Matrix you knew me as 'Whiterook'."

Mike's mouth dropped even further as the memory of the girl on the bike with the big gun flashed through his mind. "That was you?" He openly gaped. "You expected me to be 'some pimple-headed geek' maybe?" She asked, amusement evident in her voice.

"Uhhhh, no I guess not, I just didn't expect you to be so, uhhh, well… hot…I guess…" The words had the most awkward lilt to them and they fell from his mouth before he could even think of what he was saying to her. 'Shit, that sounded bright. Open mouth, insert foot…' He thought to himself as Schalla's unwavering gaze ran him up and down.

"Well, in any case, welcome to the Cerberus. This is the fastest ship with the most guns in the entire fleet of Zion. By the time we reached the bridge, we had just enough time to watch the agents rush you as you jumped. We were able to locate your pod in the stacks in just enough time to find your body before it was melted down into food for the other enslaved humans. We thought that you were dead for sure, you hit that water, both inside the Matrix as well outside, hard. You should be dead from the bridge stunt, good thing that we rushed to find your body or else you would have died. I thought that we had lost you for sure, but Bene here noticed that you still had a week pulse and light breathing. Normally the only reason that people get dumped is because we helped them exit the Matrix or they died in it. But you didn't get helped out, so you had to have died there, but you're still alive here. At any rate, Captain Spirit would like to meet you. Welcome to life. Welcome to freedom from the Matrix." And with that Schalla walked out of the med bay and after a moment Mike followed her, ready to meet his new life.


End file.
